


Are We Best Friends?

by Adm_Hawthorne, Googlemouth



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F, Rizzles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-07 02:11:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/425753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adm_Hawthorne/pseuds/Adm_Hawthorne, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Googlemouth/pseuds/Googlemouth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maura comes over after a bad blind date and spends the night. Cowritten with Googlemouth</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Characters aren't mine. They belong to Tess Gerritsen, Janet Tamaro, Turner Broadcasting, Warner Brothers, and other assorted important people. I gain nothing from writing these stories but the fun of doing it. Please don't sue me.

Jane closed the front door to her apartment with a light click, released Jo from her leash, and flung said pink leash somewhere in the area of the coffee table. With a groan, she staggered over to her small kitchen to find something to eat for both her and her pup.

Her first week back on the job hadn't been what she expected. First of all, not being fully on duty was torture. She felt naked without her gun or shield. Second of all, having her mother walk in on her while Casey was getting dressed was still eating at her.

Maura hadn't helped at all. She'd just laughed it off. Jane's only consolation on the matter was that her best friend had finally stopped seeing the surgeon that had repaired the damage from the gunshot wound to her abdomen.

Jane absentmindedly ran her hand across her side and over the fresh scar tissue. It had finally stopped hurting, and it had only taken three months, her mother and father getting divorced, her mother moving into her best friend's guest house, and...

Her best friend had a guest house.

Jane shook her head and stopped pouring milk into her bowl of Lucky Charms. How strange had her life gotten that her best friend, one, had a guest house, and, two, was letting her mother stay there _because_ she was Jane's mother.

"Jo, you ever get the feeling your life is someone else's bad TV sitcom?" She tossed a milk bone to the little dog, who happily snapped it out of the air. "I wonder what Maura's doing. She said she had some errands to run when we left work tonight. I bet she's out buying more random crap for her new office. You should see it, girl. The stuff in there probably costs more than everything we own, and the chairs are the most uncomfortable pieces of..."

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. With a roll of her eyes, she grabbed her bowl of cereal and went to answer the persistent knocking.

"Beware of geeks bearing gifts," came the misquoted greeting from behind a grocery bag that Maura held close to herself like a chubby toddler, bulging at odd points and looking about two seconds from squirming out of her grasp. "I suspected you'd be eating cereal or some kind of unhealthy take-out, so I brought something else. Also, your mother has terrible taste in men."

Only then did it become apparent that the diminutive woman was dressed rather more spiffily than she normally would be just for hanging out at home or at Jane's. That was definitely date attire, that stunning ice-lavender dress with the little shimmer in the fabric, the strappy sandal, the bouncy loose curls framing a face with a little more makeup and jewelry than Maura had worn to work that morning.

"I warned you about letting her set you up, but do you listen to me?" Jane rolled her eyes and stepped aside, continuing to eat her cereal as she watched Maura make her way to the kitchen. "And you can't take my Lucky Charms... or my Cap'n Crunch. I _need_ those. They go with my coffee." She closed and locked the door. "Oh, speaking of, I just brewed a pot. After we unpack all that healthy crap I'm sure you just brought over, you want some? You can tell me about Mr. Wrong." She slurped the milk from the bowl as she walked to the sink.

Maura chuckled as she set the bag down on the counter. "Eat your cereal," she agreed. "Go ahead and fill up on that, and there'll be more fish tacos for me." Already her efficient hands were unpacking and starting to create order, a _mis en place_ for late dinner preparations. Some kind of fish, lots of vegetables, flour tortillas, and a little selection of spices. She washed her hands and got to work, washing and chopping vegetables. "So, your mother said that Nathan's job was similar to mine. I was thinking he was a doctor, a coroner, maybe even an undertaker or funeral director. She also said he was a very gentle, respectful person, and she'd met him through your Nonna's friend Gladys. Oh, could you hand me that red pepper?" Jane tossed the paper at Maura, who caught it but gave the cereal eating detective a hard look. "Thank you. We met at _Mario's_ for early dinner, since he said he had work later tonight."

"Well," she continued as all the vegetables were diced finely and she could turn to the fish, "I couldn't eat anything. I saw what other people were eating, and it was... _food_ , for lack of a more accurate word that isn't obscene, that I wouldn't feed to an enemy. I got some water and said it was a little early for me to be eating dinner."

"He took you to _Mario's?"_ Jane let out a snort. "What a cheapskate. _I_ wouldn't even take you there. Ma should have known better. Nathan's a freaking _miser_. See? This is why you should call me and ask before agreeing to _anything_ Ma asks you to do. She's tricky. I keep trying to tell you." She started setting the table. _"Mario's,"_ she grumbled to herself. "If _I_ were taking you out, it'd be someplace better than that, and I make half what he does. I'd take you to," she stopped moving and stood up, really contemplating where she might take the finicky doctor. "Oh! That really nice seafood restaurant out by the docks. You know the one? _The Inn by the Sea?_ That's the kind of place someone taking _you_ out should go. _Mario's_ is more _my_ kind of place, not _yours_." She shook her head and resumed setting the table.

As she finished slicing up the fish and washing the cutting board, Maura sent her friend a thoroughly sunny smile, distracted momentarily from Nathan's poor choice. "I know you would, Jane. But no, _Mario's_ is not your kind of place. You know good Italian food. You'd never put up with something like _Mario's_."

"But that wasn't the worst of it." She grabbed a pan to heat oil, and in moments was frying up the vegetables, hot and crisp. "As he ate, with very poor table manners I'll add, Nathan told me what he actually does for a living. He claims to speak with the dead! _That's_ what your mother meant when she said his job was similar to mine. He says he's bringing people answers and closure. Do you believe that? He's a charlatan, preying on the bereaved in their time of emotional vulnerability."

"Like I said, Ma's tricky." Jane pulled out a bottle of wine and popped the cork to let it breathe. "You know, maybe _we_ should go to that place down by the docks? I mean you're already dressed up, and this'll keep, and I'm kind of tired of being at home. I mean, I've been here for three months. It's getting kind of old. If you're okay with me wearing what I was wearing to work… I know it's not a dress, but a suit with a button down isn't too bad, is it?" She raised an eyebrow. "Wait, don't answer that," she chuckled. "On second thought, scratch that. It _is_ late, and this smells good." She strolled over to her cabinet to grab two wine glasses. "I know Ma's heard people say you say you speak with the dead, and that's probably what she was thinking. But, if she'd just _listen_ to me when I'm talking, she'd know that, when _you_ speak to the dead, it's not because you think you're talking to ghosts. Ma's thick sometimes." Jane reached up for the glasses, and suddenly bent over, "Ow, _dammit_." She made a grab for her side, holding one hand up to ward off Maura's inevitable attempt to check her side for injury.

Maura stood frozen and stricken: her hands were busy stirring fish into the frying pan. "Jane!" she exclaimed, then realized that, yet again, the pain was almost certainly psychosomatic. The knowledge relaxed her only marginally, just enough to keep cooking, not enough to keep her attention truly on the frying pan. "Jane, let me just..." She could let the fish cook with its own internal heat in the pan, rather than having to actually deal with it…

Decision made, Maura turned off the heat and abandoned it all, not rushing to the detective's side, but getting there fairly quickly anyway, placing the flat of her hand over the spot. "What happened? What were you feeling?"

"I don't know! I reached up for the glasses, and I got this pain in my side," Jane batted at Maura's hand. " _Maura_ , how many times do I have to tell you to feel up your own scars?" She pulled away, leaning against the counter behind her with one hand pressed down on her side. "Man, I thought I was over this. I don't know how, but I'm sure this is all Ma's fault. Your fish are burning." Sentences all ran together as Jane talked through the pain, wincing as she did so.

"No, they're not," Maura replied easily, not allowing herself to be dissuaded from her examination. "Move your hand, Jane. Stand up straight, and let me do this." She waited patiently until access was granted, then placed her hand flat against the scar tissue. No poking, no prodding, barely any pressure, just a flat, warm palm. She didn't even look at the spot. Some examination; nothing was being examined. "I know what you were doing, Jane. That isn't what I asked. I asked what you were feeling. Breathe slowly and talk to me. What's wrong?"

"Well, gee, Maura, I don't know," Jane's tone was dripping with sarcasm, "my parents are getting divorced, my doctor won't see me to grant me an active duty status even though he _knows_ I'm fit to go back, my best friend is being set up by Ma with guys I'd rather shoot thank talk to, and," she made an exaggerated thoughtful face, "Oh yeah! I have a _gunshot_ _wound_ to my side. There's nothing wrong with me in my head," she made her point by pointing at said head. "The scar tissue is tight because I'm cold. You know how this goes, and you know _I_ know how this goes." She held up a hand for them both to see. "It's just going to hurt sometimes. Now, will you please unpin me so I can grab the glasses? And, for real, your fish are burning."

Wisely, Maura let it go for the nonce, turned the pan of fish and vegetables into small fish tacos with the assistance of a quartet of tortillas, two for each of them. The fish were fine, as it turned out. They had a nice crisp brownness along one side of each little piece, but they were by no means burnt.

However, as Maura cleared the dishes and started slicing peaches and strawberries, sprinkling them with sugar and cinnamon for a light dessert, she returned to the issue of Jane's phantom pain. Not directly, of course. She approached it like a crab, scuttling sideways this way and that, getting nearer without seeming to do so. "Byron did say he intended to give you your physical go-ahead if your checkup on Monday looks good."

Jane grunted, her hand going to her side. "You're still talking to him? I thought you said you called it off? Maura, why do you keep talking to him? He's _greasy_." She absentmindedly rubbed at her side. "He's _bad for you_ , woman. Man, it's like I told Casey when he was here," she winced, not seeming to notice the pain as she ranted, "it's like everyone thinks they _have_ to have someone to sleep with to be happy. Why can't everyone just be happy how they are? I mean, it's fine when it's just you and," she gave another grunt, louder this time. "Okay, whatever it is you're doing, stop it. My side feels like someone is stabbing it... repeatedly. _Crap,_ it hurts." She stood up from her place at the counter and, wincing, walked over to the sofa to lie down.

From where she lay on her back, she called out over the back of the sofa, "I thought you didn't believe in psychology anyway."

Maura simply washed the dishes and let Jane rant until she wound down, pausing in such a way as to let Maura know that she could respond at last. "It's a soft science, but that doesn't mean it's without merit. The mistakes and misconceptions of alchemy eventually led to the real science of chemistry. The study of humors eventually led to a more complete understanding of biology and medicine. The mind is the hardest thing to understand because it straddles the boundaries between the physical and the non-physical, and therefore those who claim to understand it are overstating their case. However, in _your_ case," she added as she dried the last dish, "since there is nothing physically wrong with you other than cicatrices, we can eliminate physical causes and focus on mental and emotional ones."

The woman could _not_ be brief.

As she hung up the dish towel and fetched the dessert bowls to bring to Jane on the sofa, the smaller woman finally answered the first question. "I was talking to Byron because we met for lunch. We had to exchange... certain belongings that each of us wanted to get back. Here, eat your peaches."

"I don't want your peaches," one sinewy hand waved off the bowl while the other clutched at her side. "I'm glad you got rid of him. He's a jerk, Maura." The detective winced in pain. "You can do better." With a little grunt, she tried to sit up, only managing to push herself up half way and fold her legs back to allow a spot for the doctor to sit. "You never did tell me _why_ you finally dropped him, and now I want your peaches." She held a hand out.

Maura sat, handed Jane her bowl and spoon, settled, and then used her now empty hand to pat her lap, welcoming the taller woman's feet back onto it. "I dumped Byron because of multiple factors. Mostly for the same reasons I'd been seeing him, actually, though he did precipitate an earlier breakup than I had anticipated."

"Wait," Jane said through a mouthful of peaches as she settled her feet on Maura's lap, "you were dating him for the same reasons you dumped him. Maura, that doesn't make any sense. What does that even _mean_?"  
 _  
_"Well, you know, I'd had Frankie nearly die on my table, under my hands, and then I watched you shoot Bobby Marino through yourself and _you_ nearly died, too. It was a stressful time for me." She looked guilty – no, _ashamed_. That look was rare on Maura. In fact, it was possible Jane had never seen it. "I just... I needed to do something that released endorphins, expended energy, took my mind off all the stressors, and made me feel good physically and less lonely, just for a little while. And then I needed to know that it would end whenever I needed, without my feeling bad about it."

"Okay, so you needed a toy that didn't require batteries." Jane rolled her eyes, using one toe to give Maura a little poke in the stomach, "But _why_ did you dump him? I mean, if all he really was was a toy..."

"Because I couldn't stand the son of a bitch."

The spoon in Jane's hand clattered to the floor, and her face took on a fish-out-of-water expression. _"Excuse me?"_ Her jaw dropped, eyes wide and unblinking. "Did _Maura Isles_ just us blue collar language?"

Looking vaguely unsettled herself, Maura admitted, "That didn't feel as cathartic as I'd imagined it would be. But yes, I pushed him from the curb for the same reason I took up with Byron in the first place. Because I didn't need him."

"That's 'kicked him to the curb'," Jane autocorrected as she reached down to pick up her spoon, blow on it as if to get rid of unseen dust from the floor, and stick it back in her bowl of fruit. "What made you decide you didn't need him anymore?" She took another bite of her dessert as she waited for an answer.

Maura smiled without remarking as Jane leaned all the way over to pick up her spoon, evidencing no discomfort in what should have been a painful maneuver if her bullet wound was still the source of her hurt. Her answer to Jane's question came only after a full bite of peaches, then scooping a strawberry onto her own spoon, which she used for minor gesturing as she spoke. "Byron was only intended to fill a temporary void. That's why I chose him. The fact that he was marginally pleasant in bed was entirely unexpected, as well as beside the point. I just needed a warm body beside me, someone who would touch me. I don't have that need anymore." She finally ate the strawberry, put the spoon in the bowl, and lay her hand atop the calf which rested comfortably upon her thigh.

"Yeah?" Jane scooped her bowl for any last drops of juice and then licked her spoon. "You find another guy or something?" She asked between licks, an eyebrow rising in mock suspicion. "If it's Frankie, I'm going to kill him," she deadpanned as she dropped her spoon into her bowl with a clatter. "I mean, there are rules about hooking up with your sister's people."

"It's not a romantic relationship," Maura said with a smile into her last bite of fruit. Moments later, her bowl and spoon joined Jane's on the coffee table. "I simply found that one day, my skin was no longer hungry."

"That makes it sound like you're some kind of succubus that needs skin-to-skin contact in order to feed." Jane rolled her eyes at Maura's hard look. "What? Bad analogy?" She gave a wave of her hand, dismissing whatever the doctor was about to say. "Maura, come on, you're doing that thing. You know, that thing where you answer but don't because you can't lie but you don't want to tell me. I'm tired. It's been a long week. Could we just call it even and you _tell_ me instead of making me use my 'great detective skills' to figure out what you actually mean?"

The apologetic expression on Maura's face was somewhat gratifying; at least, better than the slightly superior, amused smirk she often wore when engaged in verbal playtime with her best friend. "I'm sorry, Jane, I thought I _had_ told you."

Jane gave a pleading look, holding her hands out, palms up. "Cut me a break here, would you? I mean, what kind of _platonic_ relationship is better than a toy that doesn't require batteries anyway?"

"Ours."


	2. Chapter 2

The clock on the mantel ticked several seconds away as Jane's brain processed what Maura had just said. "Ours?" The question was quiet and confused. _"Ours?"_ She said again, her face mirroring her confusion. "But... but... Maura." Dark eyebrows pulled together in puzzlement, "I've been out of the hospital for over two and half months. You've been with Slucky this entire time. I mean, why _now?_ Why not drop him when I was released?"

The question that someone who might have been on the outside looking in would have asked never came from Jane's lips. The thought never occurred to Jane to ask what made _their_ relationship so special that Maura no longer needed Bryon Slucky to fill the void the doctor spoke of, nor did Jane bother or think to ask what the void was exactly. Instead, the detective's focus was on the timing. "Maura, why _now?_ What changed?"

"It was time," Maura replied simply, as if that were a reasonable explanation. When Jane's expression told her otherwise, she patted the lanky woman's calf. "Let me up." She got up to take both fruit bowls to the kitchen and wash them. "What changed... Well, it wasn't one large event, not like the shooting. I suppose you could say it was an accumulation of small things, sort of like a rockslide or an avalanche. Gradual shifts. You woke up, and that was a first one. You were released from the hospital. You completed supervised physical therapy." She set the last spoon in the drain rack and came back to rejoin the detective on the couch. "And of course, there were the things that happened between me and Byron."

"I told you Byron was tender in bed. That was... that was a little misleading." Enough that some might consider it a damned dirty lie, and Maura knew it. She looked down at her fingernails, the bright red splayed across the fabric of Jane's pants. She would repaint them tomorrow, perhaps, or maybe just remove the polish and let them be naked for a few days. "What I should have said to give a better picture of things was that Byron was a cuddler. I had figured him to be the sort that would just need me to make out with him all the time, with incremental escalations, in order for him to stay where I needed him. He wasn't. A little kissing, and he was fine with snuggling for the rest of the night. The night before I broke up with him, he proposed an escalation of our physical relationship, and I chose not to accept. I knew it was time to end things, and I suppose I should have just said so, but before I could, he gave me a stronger reason than that."

Jane narrowed her eyes, sitting up as she did so. She faced her friend, her expression a mix of frustration, anger, and weariness. "Didn't I _just_ ask you to cut me a break here and just... okay, you know what? Never mind. Forget I asked." She rolled her eyes and threw a hand up in frustration. "I give. You win. You don't want to tell me, fine. Don't tell; just... just _say_ you don't want to say instead of giving me the run around. See?"

Maura opened her mouth to say, "I'm getting there," but Jane didn't give her the chance to comment, let alone answer the questions being asked of her.

In a smooth motion, the detective stood up, walking back to the coffee pot in the kitchen, " _This_ is one of the reasons why, if we liked women, we could _never_ date each other. This thing you do where you beat around the bush instead of just answering the question?" She poured the coffee and started adding sugar, oblivious to Maura's facial expression freezing, then falling into hurt. . "Yeah... it drives me nuts. Why can't you just _answer_ a question? Why do you _always_ have to drag shit out with some elongated answer? It's like watching a foreign flick where the chick on the screen answers the guy with some two minute response and the subtitles give a two word response." She took a sip, nodded, and continued on with her rant, "You _always_ give the chick response even when I'm practically _begging_ you for the subtitles." She shook her head.

"Whatever. It was time. You didn't have sex with him. You like to cuddle. Whoo." Jane made a little circle in the air with the index finger of her free hand. "Are you going home tonight or what? It's getting late."

Maura pursed her lips in thought, waiting to see if Jane had anything else to add. Upon seeing that the rant was complete, she replied in a curt tone, "Byron denigrated my profession by saying I was 'just a forensic pathologist', and then he dismissed my concerns for your healing process. He said healing rates varied, and that my perceptions of your physical strengths were inflated to tumidity. He strongly implied that _you_ were _average_. So, I... um... Well, I shoved his briefcase into his... into _him_."

With irritation mixed with the hurt in her voice, she added in a huff, "I can leave... if you want me to."

Jane gave two little smacks of her lips as she thought about what Maura had just said. "No, you can stay if you want." She shrugged. "So, Slucky... you broke up with him because he said I was average? No, wait... hold on a second," the coffee cup in her hand slammed down on the counter top with a loud thud, "That bastard said you were _just_ a pathologist? Really? That's like saying Superman is _just_ a reporter. I can't believe he said that! God, what a sorry piece of shit. Did he know you at all? Oh... That. Is. _It._ I'm going to go kick his ass. I don't care if he _is_ my doctor." In a moment of wild anger, Jane started for her front door.

" _No,"_ said Maura firmly, though not without an undercurrent of unpleasant shrillness, a fear that Jane really would do such a thing. She hurried to intercept, standing in front of the door to reason with her best friend. "Jane, don't. Byron has a lawyer who will take you for everything for assaulting him without provocation. _Stop._ Jane, look at me." Nervousness kept her voice tight, but she did an admirable job of projecting calm rationality overlying it all. "I don't care what Byron Slucky says about my profession, or my competency at my profession. It doesn't matter. I cared what he said about you, and I got him for it. Right in the... gonadal area. It's done. You don't have to charge off into the night to defend my honor. Although," she added with a sudden shading of her common, usually inappropriate, flirtatiousness, "it's awfully sweet of you."

With a grunt, Jane shook her head. "Fine. But, I reserve the right to kick his ass if he says that when I'm around. It's justifiable. There's a hundred cops on the force that would back me. You are _so_ much more than _just_ a forensic pathologist, and _Byron_ is nothing but an asshole." She crossed her arms, tiling her head to the side. "You can stop blocking my front door with your body now, Queenie. This knight is tired. You about ready to go to bed?" She turned to head back to the kitchen to rinse out her cup and turn the coffee pot off.

"I'll just..." Maura hesitated, glancing around the front room. It was apparent that Angela had made regular intrusions into Jane's space; even the mess of the night before was mostly cleared by now. "Yes. I still have things to wear here, don't I?"

"Yeah, they're in the night stand by the window." With a thunk, the coffee cup was placed beside the coffee pot.

"And you've changed the sheets since Casey left?"

"No, Ma did that for me," Jane growled at the memory of that morning. "Not that it would matter. We didn't... never mind. You're safe from guy cooties. You just have to deal with mine." After turning out the last of the lights in the main part of the apartment, Jane walked into her bedroom, flicking on the light as she walked in. "You coming or what?"

In fact, Maura followed so closely that when Jane paused to turn on the light, the smaller woman all but crashed into her from behind. "Oh! Sorry. Yes. You know, the term 'cooties' is an Austronesian languages' word, _kutu,_ meaning lice."

The next few minutes of bed preparations, in which she regaled Jane with a lengthy monologue concerning the history of the word's history and usage as childhood slang, were... trying.

As they settled into bed, Jane's patience finally wore to an end. In a fit, she turned on her side to face the still talking doctor and placed two fingers over the other woman's lips, silencing her. "Maura, it's late. I'm tired, and, although it's normally cute when you go all Googlemouth on me, I'm going to have to ask you to stop now. Okay? Now, I'm going to remove my fingers, and, when I do, if you're still giving me the history of the word 'cootie', I can't be held responsible for what I do next. Got it?" She waited, hovering slightly over the smaller woman with her fingers still on Maura's lips.

Maura stiffened, her eyes gone large and dark, and ever so slightly pinched at the outer corners. Her lips softened as if to open and speak, then stilled again. Gradually she stirred herself to nod, small and tight.

"Good." Jane slowly removed her fingers and settled on her side, facing Maura. "For the record," she said into the welcomed quiet, "I knew all of that stuff before you told me. Also," she yawned, "I bet I cuddle better than Dr. Schmuck." She growled again. "I'm pretty sure, outside of fixing people, I do _everything_ better than him. Man, Maura, you should just let me... I don't know, at least key his car or something," she was ranting again. "I mean, 'just a forensic pathologist'? _Really_?" Her breathing was picking up speed as her thoughts raced around how anyone could so short change the doctor. "How could he..."

This time it was Maura's fingers, two of them, that silenced Jane. "Shh." Then came a smile so small, but so open and warm, that it could have easily started an earthquake, or started _something_ , anyway, that would shake foundations. "You cuddle much better than Byron."

A grunt was the response followed by a nod and two arms snaking out to pull Maura closer to the lanky brunette she was currently silencing.

Pulled by the waist, Maura went pliant, emitting a little sigh as her body seemed to mold to that of her best friend. " _So_ much better," she exhaled as she wrapped herself around her friend, falling asleep halfway atop her almost immediately, three months' worth of held breath and tightly clutched tension released in a wave of relief.

"Thought so," came the sleep heavy response as Jane quickly fell into her own peaceful sleep.

* * *

The sound was somewhat familiar. In Jane's half asleep mind, she recognized it as something that was important to pay attention to, but her body was resistant to the idea of moving from the supremely comfortable spot she was in.

Warm, cozy, and safely nestled in her bed, she had no want to give any attention to the sound. But, the sound persisted, and, as she slowly came fully to, she realized what it was. Someone was gently knocking on her bedroom door.

For once, Jane had the foresight to close and lock her bedroom door before going to bed, and, for once, her preparations had not been in vain. She smirked and shifted, nuzzling against Maura's neck as she readjusted how her leg and arm were wrapped around the smaller woman. "Not _this_ morning, Ma," she whispered in a raspy exclamation of triumph.

From the other side of the bedroom door, the knocking became louder. "Jane!" Her mother's voice was muffed but clearly irritated. "You get up and open this door _right now!"_

"Nope, not going to happen," Jane murmured as she gave a contented sigh, body settling more heavily against her friend.

Beneath and around her, however, that friend was being knocked to awareness by the insistence of the woman on the other side of the door. "Zhhnn," she mumbled into the lankier woman's mussed mop of hair, not quite able to fully form the name, though she did get a little better at it with each knock and demand in that familiar, persistent voice. "Jhnn. Jnnn. _Jane."_ Gradually her eyes flickered open, focused, and began to look around the room in which she had once again found herself. It was a pleasure Maura had missed, and she was loathe to have anything take away from it, but logic won out. "We have to let her in. She'll just stand there, getting madder and madder." Still, she made no move to disentangle herself. Any will to allow Angela into their space – no, _Jane's_ space – would have to come from Jane herself.

"Janie? I can hear you in there talking to somebody. Is that Charles again?" Knock, knock, knock. The woman would not let up.

"Damn it," Jane growled as she reluctantly rolled off Maura, slipped from the warmth of her bed, and opened the door with a violent thrust. "What, Ma?" She grumbled under her breath as she stomped back to bed and slid back from whence she came, not caring what the position may look like to her mother.

"Jane? What's going on here?" Angela's voice was loud and demanding in the quiet peace of the bedroom.

"Sleeping," Jane shot back as she resettled against the small woman.

Though her face expressed a certain level of anxiety in Angela's direction, Maura's movements offered no hesitation as she permitted Jane right back into her embrace, just a little resettling, and she did move the sheet back over the leg that had worked its way free during the night. "Good morning, Angela," she said with a tentative smile, or perhaps it was more of a friendly wince. Quickly, she cast about for a reason for the elder Rizzoli's state of upset. "Did the gardener forget and leave the sprinkler on outside the guest house door again?"

"What? No!" Angela stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at the two women. "Jane and I were supposed to finish cleaning up this... this," she motioned around the room, " _pigsty_ , and I come in to find her in bed with someone... _again!"_ Eyes wide, voice booming, the older women walked around to the side of the bed her daughter had just crawled in on. "Jane, what is going on here? Are the rumors true? Why didn't you just _tell_ me, and... and... Maura," her eyes flicked to the other woman, "how could you let her," she made a pointed gesture to her daughter, "sleep with Charles?"

Jane grunted and pulled the bed sheet over her head, not bothering to answer her mother's questions or even acknowledge that she was being ranted at by Angela. Instead, the younger Rizzoli curled closer around her friend, tucking the sheet firmly over her head.

Maura's jaw dropped and her eyes widened. She glanced towards Jane, but finding her sleeping companion hiding, could do nothing but respond for her. As usual, she relied on known facts, idly rubbing Jane's shoulder as she calmly explained, "Sex releases endorphins, oxytocin, Immunoglobulin-A, and a plethora of other chemicals in the brain and body that contribute to good health, relaxation, a strengthened immune system, and interpersonal trust. Jane didn't have sex with Casey, but if she had, I'd have said good for her."

After a moment of simply looking incredulous, Angela started to sputter, protest, question. The latter had her finger pointing accusingly from one woman to the other, scarcely articulate enough for Maura to really discern what the actual questions were, so she had a hard time answering, or not answering, or even knowing which was more appropriate. "Jane?" murmured the barely-clad friend through the tirade, nudging her gently but in earnest. "A little help, please."

With a quick jerking motion, Jane sat up, throwing the sheet off her head and giving her mother a death glare that would scare the biggest and baddest of perps. "Oh my God, Ma!" She snapped, "I didn't have sex with Casey, and I'm not having sex with Maura. She spent the night because it was late, and I locked the door because I _knew_ you would do that thing you _always_ do and just walk in on me and, for once, I wanted to actually sleep." She glowered at her mother. " _Nothing_ is going on with me and Maura. We're just friends, Ma, so you can just stop it now."

"Since when did you lock the door when Maura was over 'just to be able to sleep in'? Huh? I'm your mother, Jane. Don't lie to me. You think I didn't know about Sally Connolly?" Angela set one hand on her hip, the other gesturing wildly. "If you two are seeing each other, just _tell_ me, and we'll deal."

"Ma..." Her daughter's voice was full of warning. "Just stop."

"Don't 'Ma' me, Jane Rizzoli. I'm tired of you keeping things from me. You know I have _always_ told you that you could come to me with anything, and I can't believe you'd just..."

"No. Just no. Don't do this to me. Don't fu..." Jane glanced back to Maura. "Just... stop." With another hard look to her mother, Jane slipped out of bed, brushing past her mother. "I'm not doing this." She winced, grabbing her side as she made her way to the bathroom, shutting the door with a solid slam.

Thoroughly heated by now, Angela turned back to the bed, where Maura still reclined in one of Jane's tank tops, hair mussed as only vigorous sleep or vigorous sex could make it. "All right, missy. My daughter can lie to me, but I know you can't. What's really going on here?"

"I missed Jane, so I came over and made her dinner."

It sounded so simple, but Angela knew that wasn't the last of it. She crossed her arms and waited.

Maura's lips pursed as she sorted out what to say, what would satisfy this demanding person. "We sat and talked, and it got late. Jane asked if I wanted to stay so I wouldn't have to drive home."

Angela's foot began to tap.

"So I did."

Angela's eyebrow arched.

"And now you're here, and I'm sorry we didn't open the door right away." It wasn't enough; Maura could see that yet more information was needed. "It's just that Jane hasn't been sleeping well, and neither have I, and did you know that it's much easier to sleep with another person than alone? It has to do with biorhythmic resonance. Another person's heartbeat, breathing rate, and warmth..."

"Oh, for Pete's sake!" Angela finally exploded. "Are you sleeping with Jane?"

Maura's head tilted in honest puzzlement. "I just told you I slept here."

 _"Maura!"_ That howl, that soul-deep frustration, that Jane exhibited so often, this was where she got it. Angela did it just as well, and with even less provocation, at least as far as Maura could tell. "Are you having sex with Jane?"

And all Maura could do was turn red.

"I TOLD YOU NO! WE ARE _NOT_ HAVING SEX!" Jane bellowed at her mother as she reentered her bedroom, hair pulled back and face freshly washed. "What do I have to do to get you to stay out of my personal life, huh? I mean, really? Get out, Ma."

"Jane, please, don't fight. This isn't necess–"

"Don't you take that tone with me, Jane Rizzoli. I am your mother..."

"Who has _completely_ overstepped her boundary lines! I've told you over and over that Maura and I are just friends, and you just keep at it. We're not in a relationship, and, ah! Dammit!" Jane grabbed at her side, eyes burning with angry fire. "Get out, Ma," She was practically bent over with pain. "Get out now, and I'll call you when I don't want to shoot you." Grunting, Jane staggered to her bed and fell over on it, clutching at her side. "Maura," she pleaded through gritted teeth, "Make your house guest get out of my house."

She had been so close to chastising Jane for showing such animosity towards her mother, but as pain caused her friend to double over, Maura leaped from under the sheets to tend to her. "Lie on your back. Let me look, Jane. Can you straighten out? Angela, could you please go into Jane's bathroom and get out the prescription bottle of ibuprofen on the middle shelf of the right-hand side of the cabinet?" Though the problem was likely psychosomatic, fetching analgesic would get Jane's mother out of the room for a few minutes – because there was no such bottle in that location – and also give her something constructive to do, hunting for something to help her daughter.

When she heard no response, the physician correctly surmised that Angela had gone to do her bidding, and so she turned her full attention back to Jane, speaking more quietly and soothingly. "I'm here, sweetheart, what happened? What are you feeling right now, besides your wound? Can you talk to me?"

"I'm _pissed_ , Maura," Jane spit out between hisses of pain. "Quit babying me and get her out of here." Jane threw her head back, eyes rolling back for a moment. " _Now_."

"Okay, I will," Maura promised, looking pained herself at having to get up and walk away from Jane in her torment. But she did so, heading into the bathroom where Angela still kept up her futile search for the non-existent ibuprofen.


	3. Chapter 3

"I can't find it, Maura, it's not here," Angela said, in something of a panic.

Maura sidestepped admitting the lack of such a bottle. "It must be somewhere else. I'll give her something else for the pain. Angela, stop. Come sit with me." She gently took the woman's hands in hers and guided her out of the bathroom and into the living room, careless of her own state of relative undress. As she sat them both down, she took a deep breath. "It might be your business if Jane is having sexual relations with someone – though I suspect she would argue that point – but it would not be your business if _I_ had sex with someone. Even if it was Jane, as unlikely as that is for us."

"Okay, okay, I get it," Angela threw a hand up in defeat. "You two aren't sleeping together. Jane made that pretty clear." The older woman frowned deeply, clearly thinking things she had often thought before. "Frankly, I don't know why. You two... well, like you said, it's none of my business. But, it if _were_ my business, which, like I said, it's not, but if it _were_ , then I'd say you have more of a shot than you think you do."

"Uh," Maura began, then had nowhere to go. "I don't...Um. She doesn't... I mean, Jane isn't... We're not..."

Angela gave a humorless chuckle. "If there's one thing I know about my Janie, it's that the more she fights against something, the more likely it is to be true when it comes to things she's trying keep me from being right about, and I was dumb enough to say she liked you about the third week she knew you. I mean, you were all she ever talked about and... anyway," Angela stopped herself, wiping her face wearily with the fingertips of one hand. "I'm going to go. I can't do anything when she's like this. You know where to find me if you need me." She stood, giving Maura a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Go take care of her, Maura. You're the only one she'll let do it anyway." Still frowning, Angela left.

* * *

Dumbfounded, Maura merely watched her go. It seemed callous to just stop thinking about Angela, stop being sorry for having had anything to do with making her look so weary, so alone; but Jane was suffering alone too, and Maura's allegiance was clear. She walked back into the bathroom, fetched a disposable cup of water and two tablets of the over-the-counter painkiller that Jane was taking these days, and made her way back to the bedside. "She's gone."

"About time," Jane pushed up to lean against the headboard, still wincing in pain. "What did she say to you? I could hear her talking, but couldn't make out what you two were saying."

Sitting down beside her friend, Maura delicately pressed her hand over the scar tissue to rub some of the pain away. If the pain came from the muscles tensing around the healed wound, and not from the wound itself, as she felt sure was the case, this would help. "I told Angela that it _might_ be her business if you were having sex with someone, but it definitely wasn't her business if I was having sex with someone, even if that was you." Her other hand swept Jane's tangled hair off her forehead. "I also want you to know that, Sally Connolly notwithstanding, I don't assume that that's a possibility for you."

"Sally Connolly," Jane gave a snort, "She was a mistake. Crazy," she shook her head remembering the short-lived relationship. "That one was crazy." She let her head rest against the headboard, eyes closed as she allowed Maura to help work some of the pain out. "Jessica Siegel was not. I've told you about Jessie before." She sighed. "That just didn't work out, but we still hang out. I mean, _occasionally_ I date women." She cracked an eye open to glance over to her friend. "The last time we talked about this, we never got far enough into the conversation for me to tell you about Sally. I think we stopped talking about it when you called me bossy." She gave Maura a friendly little push on the shoulder. "I'm good, Maura. You don't have to keep rubbing my side. The pain seems to be going away."

Without ceasing her ministrations, Maura lifted her eyes to the ceiling, as if a transcription of that past conversation was to be read there. "J-E-S-S- _I_ -E? Not J-E-S-S-E? That conversation is different now." She smiled, eyes returning to Jane's face again. "Now I know why you kept looking at me expectantly. You were waiting for me to catch on, weren't you? And I didn't even notice."

Jane shrugged. "Mostly I was waiting for you to ask me to spell Jessie." She closed her eyes again. "Frankie didn't handle that one well. He had a thing for Jess, and she shot him down cold when we first met her. He asked her out, and she told him thanks but no thanks and then asked him what her odds were to get me to go out with her." She chuckled. "He never did let me live that one down, and, when we split, Frankie told me for months afterward that _he_ could have kept her. I just let him go, but, you know," She raised her head, looking into her friend's face, "the truth is Jess messed that up, not me. She couldn't handle the fact I was a cop, and she wanted me to quit and settle down, have kids, that sort of thing. My job is part of me, and I can't just drop it like that. I mean, I _want_ to settle down and possibly have kids one day, but not at the cost of losing a part of me to do it."

She frowned. "I guess that's about the time I decided that I couldn't be in a real relationship and be a cop. So I chose, and, well, you see where I am and what I'm doing." She grabbed Maura's hand where it continued to rub at the new scar tissue, stopping the motions. "I'm hungry, aren't you? Why don't you go take a quick shower while I walk Jo? I can grab a quickie when I get back, and then we can go to that diner on the corner. What do you think?"

Listening, just listening, was a strong suit of Maura's. New information was being put to her, information that gave her reason to smile. Jane trusted her. Her hand came to rest under Jane's, and that too made her smile, as did the jingle of dog tags as Jo Friday heard the word 'walk' and decided to show her furry face. Maura's smile turned a tiny bit mischievous, then quickly masked itself in blandness again. "That's a good plan. I always appreciate a good breakfast after sleeping with someone." Silently counting a point for herself, she stood up and padded into the bathroom for her shower.

"Funny!" Jane called out from somewhere behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

"Maura, it's a diner. _Nothing_ here is good for you. That's the point! Come on, just order something that tastes good. Look," Jane pointed to a picture on the menu. "I'll split an apple cinnamon oat waffle breakfast meal with you. I'll take the bacon, and you can have the eggs, and we can split the waffle. How about that?"

Though she looked pained, Maura nodded. "All right." The patient waitress wrote it down, followed up by asking about beverages, and departed before the high-maintenance femme could change her mind again or ask for some other oddity, like an actual salad, or a fruit cup that did not consist mostly of too-soft cantaloupe. Once she was gone, the pathologist shifted a little in her seat, not entirely comfortable with what she was wearing. The only clothes she had over at Jane's, after their long dearth of sleepovers, had been her work clothes – skinny jeans, a black blouse with multicolored embroidery, and a red leather jacket – and she didn't enjoy appearing in public so casually. Nevertheless, she was happy enough with the company to ignore such concerns, mostly, in favor of conversation. "Jane, do I get to ask you questions about what we discussed earlier?"

Jane leaned back to let the waitress set down the drinks. Tilting her head, she gave a shrug. "Sure. What do you want to know?"

While the waitress placed cream and sugar in front of Jane and a dish of sliced lemon and honey down for Maura, the latter kept her counsel, but once she was gone, the questioning commenced. It wasn't pointed or rapid, but leisurely and simple, fueled by curiosity alone. "Why didn't you sleep with Casey? He was there, he was cute, and it was so obvious that he wanted you."

"I didn't want to. In fact, I can't believe I let him stay in my house. I knew him in high school, but I don't even know him now. He's really a complete stranger to me, and you know I don't do one night stands." Jane shrugged again. "I guess I just had a moment of weakness, needed a cuddle buddy, and he was there. Besides, his kissing? Yeah... not as good as I remembered, which kind of makes me question the rest of it, if you know what I'm saying." She scrunched her face up.

Maura's nose wrinkled along with Jane's, but she laughed as she doctored her iced tea. Then it occurred to her to ask, "If you needed a cuddle buddy, why not call me? You know I'd never say no to you."

"He was there, and it was one of those one-thing-leads-to-another things. Besides, since you've been dating Slucky, you've stopped spending nights with me, so I just assumed that wasn't an option as long as you two were together. I mean, if you're dating someone, Maura, you don't sleep with me." Jane cringed. "That came out wrong, but you know what I mean."

"I do," Maura replied easily, hand slipping across the table to rest near that of her friend, "but you're wrong. I don't care what I'm doing or with whom, Jane. If you need me, you get me." Then her hand pushed forward just a little more to rest atop Jane's. "Besides, if I'd known you were able and ready for that again, don't you think I'd have dropped Byron like a hot yam? He was just a warm body. _You_ are my best friend."

"It's hot potato, and no, why would I think that? You and Schmucky seemed pretty stuck on each other, and you looked happy enough, so why would I think you'd drop him just to come pet me?" Jane gave the waitress a smile of thanks as she set the plates down. One had the waffle, and the other had the bacon and eggs. She handed Jane an empty plate. After getting everything situated, taking her share of things to place on her plate, and covering everything with syrup, she continued on. "Besides, you never told me that Byron was just a place holder, and why would I think you ever thought you needed to fill a void left by me when I didn't go anywhere?" She took a bit bite of syrup-covered waffle.

Maura eschewed syrup, sliding the over-easy eggs directly atop the waffle and breaking the yolks to dribble down into the syrup-catching texture. It was not something that she would ever have learned, or found acceptable, at her parents' table; this was decidedly working class behavior. For all that she had introduced Jane to certain influences, apparently the oldest law of forensic science had been at play between them: transfer of trace evidence is never one-way. They had come into contact and smeared their habits and tastes over one another, behavioral particulates mingling cheerfully.

"Well, you were in a coma for some time," she mentioned as she delicately cut her first bite of egg-soaked waffle, "and then Byron told me that I shouldn't try to hug you, or hold you, or get on your hospital bed with you again until further notice. Which he never gave; I think he forgot."

"Yeah, forgot," Jane said around a mouthful of bacon. "Maybe," she continued as she swept a piece of bacon through the syrup on her plate, "he was just trying to knock out the competition?" She looked up from her plate, an eyebrow raised. "Well, _perceived_ competition, anyway. I doubt you ever got around to telling him why I'm not your type. He should have asked me, I could have given him a list." She laughed, pointed at something behind Maura, to which the doctor glanced back. While Maura's attention was elsewhere, Jane stole a bite of egg soaked waffle.

Maura chuckled ruefully as she realized that she had yet again fallen for a 'look over there' alert. She did not object, however. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?" she asked with a grin, not entirely rhetorically. "One little premature judgment, and I haven't heard the end of it for months. You know, maybe that _was_ what Byron had in mind, except that I can't quite give him that much credit for subtlety. He doesn't see anyone as competition, let alone a woman." She leaned back slightly and gave a coquettish little wiggle of her shoulders, lowering her voice to murmur suggestively, "If he only knew he was just a poor substitute for you."

"Pffft," the detective countered, " _No one_ is as awesome as I am." She winked as she finished the last bite of her food. "Are you going finish that?" She pointed with her fork to Maura's plate of half finished waffle and egg. "Wait. Premature?" Came the secondary question, almost an incidental afterthought, but experience had taught Maura that Jane rarely had afterthoughts that weren't purposeful.

Small, delicate fingers pushed Maura's plate to the halfway point between them, so they could share the last of her waffle and eggs. "When I said you weren't my type," she reminded Jane, "you and I were just friends. Best friends, friends who were clicking really well, surprisingly well, but we were still getting to know one another." She took a bite, then set down her fork, indicating that the remainder was all Jane's, if she wanted it. "I made the mistake of thinking I could put you in a single, simplistic category, and you're still teasing me for it. Justifiably, of course. I hate it when I catch myself making an assumption, especially when it proves to be incorrect."

Jane happily took the plate. "So, what? We're not friends now, more than friends, friends with something going on I don't know about? If I'm not your friend, then what am I? Did I get _two_ boxes?" Mischief sparkled in dark brown eyes. "Let me guess, friend and... person who finishes your meals because you have the smallest stomach in the world?"

Dabbing her lips with the paper napkin provided, Maura allowed herself a little smirk back at Jane. "Oh, we're friends, but we're not merely friends. We're especial friends. Friends with," she paused, allowing her listener to mentally fill in the expected 'benefits', "food stealing and napping privileges. But other than that, I'd rather not categorize it. I like it that I can't put you, or us, into nice, tidy boxes. I think I enjoy that we're sort of messy."

"Hey, who are you calling messy?" A fork pulled up to point at the doctor, accidentally flicking syrup onto the fork free hand. Jane gave a hard look to her companion, licked her hand, and dropped the fork on the plate. "Okay, the lines _are_ a little blurry sometimes. I'm adult enough to admit that." She waved for the waitress to bring their ticket and handed over her card before Maura could open her purse. "I'm getting the feeling we should probably finish this talk back at my place. What do you think?"

One hand still on her purse, Maura bit her lower lip in abrupt consternation, hesitating. "I think it would be best not to have this conversation here, but home might make it a little _too_ easy. Maybe we should take a drive, or perhaps walk in the park with Jo Friday? I'm not sure if... Well, no, maybe it's fine, and I'm just being a caution freak."

"Wouldn't expect anything less." Jane took the offered pen from the waitress, signed the bill, left a generous tip, and stood. "But, I don't think I can handle doing much more. The week drained me, and, honestly, this little outing might be all I can stand. We don't have to keep going, though. I mean, we never do, so I think we'll be fine if we just follow our normal pattern, but," she offered a hand to help Maura out of the booth, "I just want you to know I'm okay if we keep going this time. I do need to go home and rest. Is that okay?"

Though she didn't need it, Maura accepted the assistance, hand light upon Jane's. The woman had confused her, and she took her time answering, waiting until they were out the door and a few yards away from the restaurant. It had taken her that long to decide what to ask. "Keep going where? What do you think of as our normal pattern?"

"You know," Jane said with a casualness that might have been less than appropriate given the topic. "We talk about our bad choices in men, then we talk about how we interact with each other, then we ignore any conclusions that might make sleeping in the same bed together either very awkward or very something else." She stopped walking, turning to face the doctor. She ignored the other people having to walk around them. "I almost died. A girl has things occur to her when she's staring her own mortality in the eye. Sometimes, you just have to stop running because, sometimes, you don't get a second chance." Her eyes drilled into Maura's, some strong emotion just below the surface. "But, once I figured out that I should stop running, it looked like I was too late." She shook her head and turned away, walking on and leaving Maura standing there.

"Wait. Jane?" Maura trotted after the other woman, kitten heels clicking on the pavement, and, when she caught up closely enough, snagged a scarred hand within hers. "Please slow down. You have longer legs and you're wearing sneakers. Give a girl a chance… or isn't that what you had in mind?"

Again, the lanky detective stopped walking, ignoring the dirty looks from the other pedestrians that now had to walk around them. Dark eyes looked down at the captured hand in the doctor's. The sun beat down on them, warming them almost to the point of uncomfortable as their eyes locked. "Okay."

Facing into the morning sun as it rose towards the day's midpoint, Maura's eyes squinted into the direct light, but she did not lower her gaze or shade it with her free hand. Jane's intensity was not a new thing to her; it regularly stung, burned, shocked, delighted, and confused her, sometimes all at once. The _type_ of intensity, however, was a flavor that was new to her, and she took her time experiencing it. Had she realized it, her own easy demeanor had begun to gradually sharpen as well, focusing and honing itself. She took a step inward, which was only coincidentally helpful to a college-aged hipster trying to get past them on the sidewalk, tightening their circle of two. Nothing happened; and then something did. Maura smiled, slowly and easily, as if she had asked another question and been given an answer, or at least another question. "Okay," she responded aloud at last, and set herself once again in motion towards Jane's apartment, still hand-in-hand with her best friend.


	5. Chapter 5

The walk calmed them both, each from her own tensions. When they opened the door to Jo Friday's tag-jingling delight and furry, wet-nosed greetings, both could smile without complication. Maura kicked off her heels and made for the kitchen to fetch them glasses of cool while Jane tended to Jo's food and water bowls. They met up at the couch, and Maura handed Jane a glass with a scant few ice cubes in it, like her own.

Maura drank half of her glass down in one long sip, surprising herself with her own thirst. Only then did she sit down, cross-legged, and clear her throat. "If you want to go first, it's your prerogative. If you don't want to go first, I'm more than willing."

"I'm thinking," Jane said as she settled on her end of the sofa, "that it'd be good if you went first. I mean, I... Maura, we don't have to." She sipped at her water. "I think I've got some fudge clusters in drawer of the coffee table."

"Tempting, but no. I think I really do want to do this," responded the woman for whom fudge clusters were some sort of unholy fascination; she seemed to feel about them the way some people viewed sex, liquor, or reruns of _Golden Girls_. She was, in other words, quite serious. She paused to give Jane a chance to object, to distract her again, to change her mind, but not for long. "You scared me, Jane. You really scared me. I thought you were going to die. I thought I'd never have you again. I was going to lose my best friend, because you were willing to shoot yourself to get help for Frankie and for me. I kept replaying conversations we'd had, things I'd said, or things I'd tried to say and never quite managed. Things you'd said, and times when I thought you were going to say something else entirely. I promised myself that if you lived, I wouldn't be so timid anymore." She couldn't quite keep her face lifted, and so she stared at her melting ice cubes instead, swirling them around to clink in her glass as condensation formed and wet her fingers.

"But then you did live," Maura went on after a long moment, "and I realized that I could still lose you, and I got scared again. I'm just... I kept thinking I couldn't do it unless you gave me some kind of opening. Today you did. So I'm taking it, and I hope I'm not completely running outside the foul line, but please, if I'm wrong, just know that I _can_ go back. What I say doesn't have to... it doesn't have to change things if you don't want things to change. Okay? Because the only thing I don't want to face is losing our friendship. I can be happy with any outcome other than that one. I just need to correct some misstatements I've made to you, errors that I made without even realizing it at the time." Her lips pressed together, then parted again. "It _wasn't_ just a sleepover. I _have_ thought about it. I _do_ like women. You _are_ my type. And you and I are _not_ just friends. We haven't been _just_ friends for a long time."

"Is this a sleepover, or is this your way of telling me that you're attracted to me?" Jane murmured to herself, eyes on the ground. Slowly, she looked up to the other woman. "What kind of women would we like if we liked women?" She whispered, her words barely audible as she ran through her thoughts, saying aloud the key phrases of the various instances that were skipping through her head. "Anything you want, I can get it." The last phrase came out gently but with an odd definitiveness.

"Yeah," she nodded as she set her glass down. "I guess the truth is we were always leaning a little toward something other than friends, weren't we?" She gave a weak smile. "Question is, if we're not _just_ friends, then what _are_ we, Maura? I have an idea, but... but I hate to admit when Ma's right." She snorted, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees, eyes downcast again to the floor.

Maura's glass joined Jane's on the table, and she too leaned forward, but not onto her elbows. "Well, luckily for me, _I_ don't have problems with Angela being right some of the time. We're," she started, licking lips gone quickly dry, "anything you want us to be. But _I_ want... I want to be... Why is this so hard?" Frustration tightened her voice, but she pushed on, hands reaching for Jane's as if to steady herself. "Jane, help me with this? I want to... I want..."

"If you can't say it and I can't say it, maybe we're wrong." The defeat in Jane's voice was evident as she drew her hands away from Maura's.

That did it. Words tumbled forth in a blaze of pure honesty, not like her usual encyclopedic spewing. This time, communication broke down to the shortest, simplest things Maura Isles had ever said in her life. "No, I want you to kiss me! Not just now, I mean. I want you. Just do it. You don't have to ask. Don't waste any more time, just do it. Not just now. Every chance you get. All the time. And, and, and, and not just kissing, either. I want to sleep," she flushed bright pink, "I mean, actually _sleep_ with you. I mean, more than we already do. A lot more. More of what we already have, but... more. I want _more_."

Jane's breathing increased, eyes widening as she listened to the most succinct thing Maura Isles had ever said to her. Slowly licking her lips, she leaned over, smiling gently. "Okay." She kissed the honey brunette gently, not touching the smaller woman, keeping her elbows on her knees and hands clasped together. The dark haired brunette pulled away first, "Like that?"

It was truly gratifying, the way Maura remained leaning forward, still enthralled by that simple, almost chaste contact, lips pushed out until they relaxed into a smile of pure satisfaction. "Yes. _Yes_ , like that. For instance. Or if you want, like this." She lifted up to stand with one knee on the couch, the other foot on the floor, and cupped Jane's face in her hands, one thumb tracing over her lip before she followed in its path with her own mouth, delicate and respectful, but with a tension of holding something back. Delicacy, it was obvious, was not all she had in mind, but she would not allow herself to push.

A husky moan escaped the detective's throat as she turned on the sofa, lying back and pulling Maura on top of her. "I want more, too," she said between kisses as she let her hands trail up Maura's back.

Maura had always been lazy. Oh, she was energetic, very capable of an enthusiastic sexual response; but she had never had to initiate, never had to declare her intentions. She showed up, looking pretty, and people came to her. She smiled, and people made advances that she had only to accept. Partners, male or female, had always taken the lead with Maura. Not once had she ever taken the first step, nor even contemplated it. In every fantasy – and there had been so many – she had imagined the same thing happening. Jane would speak her mind; Jane would request a kiss (or, in certain special daydreams, simply claim it); Jane would fully take charge.

That wasn't how it worked, now that it was within the realm of reality. Here was Jane, leaning into the couch and pulling her forward into activity instead of pushing her down and back into passivity. The world fell out from beneath Maura, starting with her own expectations. _She_ could guide this into being. _She_ could be the one to ask, to initiate, to give first. Suddenly drunk with all the potentials, she surged forward to bestow her best kisses, warm and soft and dripping with what she finally had permission to convey, while her mind churned with one horrid question: _How?_ How in the world would she do this?

Then Maura realized that all she had to do was give Jane all that she herself had ever enjoyed, and all that she had ever wished for but not gotten. Throaty voice and slender, muscular, expressive body would inform her of what Jane most liked, and all she had to do was pay attention and keep doing _that_.

And Maura found, once she let that happen, that she knew what to do after all.


	6. Chapter 6

"Jane Rizzoli, you unlock this door right now!" Angela's voice came through the front door of Jane's apartment with a vengeance, the pounding without mercy.

"Man, not again," Jane groaned as she shifted on the sofa, trying to move and realizing that she couldn't. "What?" She looked down to find Maura lying on top of her, the throw blanket she normally kept on the back of the sofa thrown over the both of them. She smiled as she glanced around at the floor by the sofa to see the remains of their outfits strewn about in a haphazard way. "Maura, sweetheart, you have to wake up. We managed to lock Ma out of the apartment, and someone's going to call the cops if we don't let her in. Maura?"

"Mm," Maura replied agreeably as she stood, rushing to pull yesterday's clothing back on as she called towards the door, "COMING!" Before opening it, however, she turned around, hand on the knob, to whisper, "Do you want to try to conceal this? Because if you do, you might want to put on some pants. Or a shirt. Or at least some underclothes."

"Meh," was Jane's answer as she adjusted the blanket to cover her modesty and motioned for Maura to let her mother in.

"Maura? Where's Jane? Why do you look like you slept in your clothes? Is everything okay?" Angela bust through the door, quick firing questions as she went. Her questions stopped short, however, when her eyes landed on her daughter who was still reclining on the living room sofa with nothing but a blanket. The older woman's eyes glanced around the room, taking everything in.

In an instant, her face when from confused and concerned to angry and accusing. One hand shot up, finger pointed at her daughter, " _You_ said..."

"I did, and it was true yesterday. It's not today." Jane shrugged, eyes dancing with mischief. "Things change."

"And thank you for the vote of confidence," Maura said to Angela by way of being helpful as she resumed her seat beside Jane. "You were right. It was a lot more likely than I'd realized."

"But... but..." Angela turned to Maura, " _you_ said... and then you both... I can't keep up!" She sat down on the coffee table, pushing a bra to the floor as she did so.

Swiftly, Maura shot a hand forth to pick up the bra and tuck it behind herself. "It's very simple," she explained. "Yesterday, we weren't. We hadn't. You precipitated... things. Well, partly it was you. Mostly it was, um, you know, just everything coming to a skull."

"To a skull?" Angela shook her head. "What?"

"To a head, sweetheart, not to a skull." Jane gave an affectionate chuckle. "Maura's right, and so were you," she winced, "and you know how much I hate saying that, so please don't make me say it again."

"I was... I was right?" The elder Rizzoli blinked, then smiled. "I was _right!"_ The grin grew with each passing second. "Of course I was right. I'm your mother, and a mother knows about these things. See, Maura, I _told_ you. You really did have more of a chance than you thought, and I'm glad it _finally_ happened. It took you two long enough. But," her eyes glanced between the two of them and then to the furniture, "on the _couch?_ People have to sit there!"

Maura giggled, unrepentant.

"Oh God, Ma! Really?" Jane rolled her eyes, groaning.

Philosophically Maura suggested, "Look on the bright side. The kitchen counter and the dining table and chairs are still safe. For now. Would you care for a sandwich?"


End file.
